Happy Anniversary!
by bythepalmtrees
Summary: The anniversary of their shipwreck brings sadness to the castaways, but Gilligan comes up with a plan that will turn the day into one of joyous celebration! (All Characters – NO PAIRING)
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: This tale was written as a little gift from the heart. I wanted to add to the stockpile of the many well wishes and congratulations being given to celebrate the 50**__**th**__** anniversary of the debut of what I fondly feel is one of the greatest TV shows in history – Gilligan's Island! It was my intention to mirror the lighthearted and comical nature of the characters and the show, as best possible with limited writing skills. I'm sure I have not captured everything exactly right, so please remember that, as with any gift, it's the thought that counts!**_

CHAPTER 1 – ANOTHER YEAR

Every one of the castaways knew what day it was, yet no one wanted to speak of it. Not one of them had the heart to face the fact that yet another year had passed, and they remained stranded, there on that uncharted desert isle. They had been there for such a long, long time…

They had learned to manage well over the years and, for the most part, their spirits remained high, and hopeful of a future rescue. Individually, they each tried to appreciate what they could pinpoint to be positive aspects of their isolated home, despite their longing for a return to their former lives. The Professor missed the interactions with his colleagues and students, and little things about civilization, like the hustle and bustle at the reference desk at the library on a Saturday night. Yet their current location and status afforded him a plentiful source of botanical specimens to catalog and study, as well as the time to do so. Mary Ann was still missing her family terribly of course, but admitted to herself that, there on the island, she was able to experience a certain type of independence that she could never have back on the farm. Gilligan too missed his family, and often talked about his friends from home. However he was able to find adventure on the island, no matter where he went, and he had come to know every inch of it very well. He had befriended many of the island's animal inhabitants and was always discovering new things that brought him joy, such as neat rocks and nifty bird's eggs.

Others were more expressive about their desire to get off the island. Mr. and Mrs. Howell were able to convince themselves from time to time that they were really on some type of vacation of sorts, just without the servants. However, Mrs. Howell greatly missed the social interactions and functions of high society, and Mr. Howell would get his spirit set aflame morning after morning as he was able to listen to the rise and fall of the stock prices on the daily news, but was powerless to participate in the market. Ginger, while being sure to practice her acting craft as best she could during their tropical exile, yearned for a return to Hollywood and her adoring fans. The Skipper kept focused with his ongoing duties, but was quite vocal about the things he missed back home – particularly mentioning his longings for a thick, juicy steak that he knew could be found back on the mainland.

Nevertheless, no matter what their personal levels of contentment were there on the island, they all functioned reasonably well until this one particular day of the year rolled around. It fell over them like an oppressive blanket of sadness, and until it passed, it was as if they were all moving in slow motion.

Everyone sat around the table at breakfast that morning, chatting with one other as they would on any other day. Although the content of the banter seemed normal enough, the discouragement in the air was palpable. With the radio playing in the background, they talked of everything under the sun except what was really on their minds. The Skipper was rambling on about repairing the lobster traps, and Gilligan just kept saying, "… yes, Skipper… yes, Skipper," absentmindedly in reply. He was listening, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Ginger and Mrs. Howell were caught up in a conversation regarding the length of a hemlines deemed proper for a formal occasion, yet neither invested much energy in defending their differing opinions, as they both knew that it really didn't matter anymore. Mr. Howell was talking to the Professor about the possibility of an upgrade to his disintegrating bamboo polo pony. As he droned on about creating one that would actually move, the Professor indulged him but, as he sat with an elbow on the table, and his head resting on his hand, he was really only hearing words at that point, and didn't have the heart to begin to contemplate what feat of engineering might be attempted to make such a dream a reality.

Mary Ann had just placed a dish of cut up pineapple on the table and had sat down between the Professor and Gilligan when the radio broadcaster began speaking about a day in history.

"Quiet everybody!" directed the Skipper. But, aside from Gilligan, who snapped out of his silent revelry and turned his head toward his captain, no one paid heed, and conversations continued on.

"I said QUIET!" the captain bellowed in his loudest and most commanding voice. That got everyone's attention at last.

"Sorry folks, but the news is on," pointed out the Skipper in a calmer tone.

The Skipper dialed up the volume knob, and all quieted down just in time to hear the tail end of the _This Day in History_ portion of the day's broadcast. Together they all listened as the radio announcer continued:

"Today also marks the anniversary of the fateful trip and subsequent loss of the tiny ship, the S.S. Minnow. It was operated by the well-liked and notably brave and sure captain, former Navy man, Jonas Grumby, and his one man crew. The ship set sail from a tropic port in the Hawaiian Islands, and embarked on what was to be a three hour tour. Many ships have vanished over the years due to the rough weather that appears suddenly across the waters of the Pacific. However, the search for this particular vessel continued notably longer than normal due to the extensive media coverage revolving around its disappearance. The five person passenger list included the famed multi-millionaire Thurston Howell, III and his socialite wife, Eunice "Lovey" Howell, as well as the beautiful, former Hollywood starlet, Miss Ginger Grant. In other news…"

The Skipper reached over and clicked off the radio... All the castaways sat in silence. The air felt as heavy as their hearts. No one felt much like eating after that. Even Gilligan, normally a veritable bottomless pit at mealtimes, pushed his plate away in sadness.

"I can't believe it's been another year…" bewailed the Skipper, rolling his eyes skyward.

"Another year gone on this blasted island! And the very idea! Thurston Howell, III, a captain of industry, the Wolf of Wall Street, reduced to a mere matter of trivia! Shocking!" thundered Mr. Howell.

"There, there Thurston," Mrs. Howell said, patting her husband consolingly on the cheek with one gloved hand while pulling out one of her finely embroidered handkerchiefs from her handbag with the other. She dabbed her eyes delicately.

Tears ran down Ginger's face as well, as she voiced her lament over the death of a career that came far too soon. "I can't believe I'm just a has-been now, 'the _former_ Hollywood starlet'." With her head in her hands, she burst into a full sob, thinking to herself that she would give anything to see those bright, sparkling lights of Hollywood again.

"They didn't even mention me," Mary Ann whimpered weakly as she started to cry.

_Or me,_ the Professor thought to himself as he just sat silently with downcast eyes. He managed to reach over and rest his hand on Mary Ann's back in an attempt to console her as she wept into her napkin, but he was so caught up in his own thoughts that he had no words of comfort to offer.

The Skipper looked around the table at the sullen men and the crying ladies, feeling completely responsible, yet at a total loss. He was out of ideas, and he too had lost heart. "I'm so sorry folks. I just don't know what to say…"

Gilligan felt crushed as he watched his usually valiant captain slide into such a pit of defeat. Mary Ann's cries were growing louder beside him, Ginger was collapsed in sadness across from him, and Mrs. Howell's delicate dabbing of her handkerchief was not keeping up with the flow of her tears. He felt his heart would break. There had to be something that could be done to raise their spirits. But what?

_Think Gilligan, think! I've got to think! _He stared down at the table, his mind spinning wildly and furiously. Finally, it came to him.

"I know, I know!" Gilligan cried out as he rose to his feet, wringing his hands with excitement.

"You know what, Gilligan?" asked the Skipper weakly.

"I know something that we can do that will cheer us all up!" he said with a smile, thus catching everyone's attention. "Let's have an anniversary party!"

"Gilligan! That has to be one of your dumbest ideas yet. Can't you see how upset everyone is? No one wants to have a party to celebrate being stuck here on this island for another year," explained an irritated Skipper.

"No, Skipper you don't understand. I don't mean an anniversary party for us being marooned. How about we change this day into a different anniversary?"

"Gilligan, my boy, what_ ahhhre_ you talking about?" questioned Mr. Howell.

Everyone else was also staring at him quizzically.

"How about we each pick something important that happened in our lives, something really happy… maybe something that nobody else even knows about, and we can pretend that this day is the that it happened. We can have a big party tonight, and then we can all tell each other what anniversary we are celebrating. C'mon, everybody. Whadda ya say?" he pleaded hopefully. "It will get our minds off the shipwreck, and it will be fun!" explained Gilligan, urging the group on with his most enthusiastic tone.

Pausing thoughtfully for a moment, the Skipper soon replied, "You know, Gilligan, that's not such a bad idea." Then, turning to address the seated group he asked, "What do you think, folks? Shall we give it try?"

"Well, it would certainly provide a welcome distraction from the more somber reflections of the day," agreed the Professor.

Mary Ann had been looking up at Gilligan, proud of him as usual, and her cheery smile was returning to her face. "That sounds like a wonderful idea Gilligan, although I really don't have anything big to celebrate," she said slightly hesitantly.

"That's okay, Mary Ann. We are all going to pick something small and personal. It doesn't have to be big," was Gilligan's encouraging reply, directed to Mary Ann, but repeated for the benefit of everyone at the table.

"All right then. I'm in." Mary Ann replied with a smile, standing up with determination. "And I'd be more than happy to make some special dishes and pies for the occasion!" she added with a chipper voice.

"I'm in too," Ginger declared, having dried her eyes and regained her normal countenance. "Oooooo! This is so exciting!" she exclaimed with a small squeal of delight. "It's just like the premier of a new movie! I'd be glad to give you a hand, Mary Ann," she offered, then continued, "and I've got just the perfect dress in mind to wear." Ginger clasped her near perfectly manicured hands together in excitement as she began to mentally travel through the high points of her career, wondering what "anniversary" she might pick.

"Girls, I can certainly aid with the food preparations. I'll head into the jungle and gather some herbs to add to our salad," announced the Professor with a beaming smile, inwardly surprised at how quickly his own enthusiasm was building. He even came up with an idea for a small "invention" of sorts that he could fabricate by the end of the day that he thought would add to the festivities.

Mrs. Howell had definitely brightened up upon hearing the first mate's suggestion. "I think it's a _maaaaarvelous_ idea, Gilligan!" she declared. "Oh, I just _adooooore _planning parties! Come Thurston, I have a million things to do!" she said, standing, and giving her husband a little tug on the arm.

"Yes, Lovey dear. Let's head back to our hut." Then of course adding in one of his usually witty quips, "I'll check to see what's left in my private stock to help us all get in the _spirit_ of the occasion, if you know what I mean," he said, laughingly.

"Well, all right then!" declared the Skipper, smiling heartily as he saw the sadness of his passengers turn into excitement as they planned on ways to implement his first mate's idea. "Gilligan and I will be sure we have plenty of fresh fish and lobster for the celebration. Come on, Little Buddy, we've got a lot of work to do!"

Off they all scattered, each to their own tasks and own thoughts, ready to spend the day with their chores and their memories.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2 - PREPARATIONS

Down at the beach, the Skipper found himself getting smacked in the face, yet again, by a fish that Gilligan had reeled in.

"Gilligan!" he roared. "I told you to be more careful!"

"Sorry, Skipper!" said Gilligan, wincing, apologizing for about the tenth time that morning. He had already, over the course of about two hours, managed to trip his captain, drop a basket of coconuts on his foot, get him tangled in a fishnet, catch his fishing hook on the Skipper's shirt, spill the entire bucket of caught fish on him, and leave a half-eaten banana right where the Skipper was about to sit down. Now - another fish to the face. Seeing the Skipper was about to lose his cool, and a whack of his cap was only moments away, Gilligan suggested, "Maybe I should head over to the lagoon and check the lobster traps now."

"Yes, Gilligan," grumbled the Skipper in retort, about to blow, "maybe you should!"

As Gilligan ran off, the Skipper rolled his eyes and removed his cap to shake off the sand that Gilligan had just kicked up all over him in his quick departure. Then he pulled his arm across his face to wipe off the water and fish slime that had landed on there after Gilligan's last catch. He sat down atop a large piece of driftwood, and let out a sigh. His first mate drove him to the point of explosion many a time, but he had the greatest of affection for his little buddy. While he could not begin to understand what went on the young man's head sometimes, he knew his heart was always in the right place.

Putting his fishing pole aside for a moment, he stared out at the ocean in an effort to calm himself down. The sea. It had been his constant companion for most of his life.

"Ah, my old friend," said the Skipper as he watch the waves rolling in. He smiled to himself, knowing just which particular "memory" he would celebrate that night.

* * *

><p>While the Skipper and Gilligan had been busy down by the beach, the Professor had stopped by their little island garden on his way to collect the herbs that would go into the salad portion of their meal for the evening. He wanted to check on the state of some of the plants that had been looking a little extra droopy over the past few days. Concerned that perhaps they were not getting enough water, or that some blight might be taking over their important food source, he felt a closer scrutiny was in order. He bent down to carefully examine the leaves of one of the plants. Although the plant was indeed fine, touching the leaf gave him a brief flash of familiarity, which then led him down a memory path he did not often travel. "Hmmmph," was the only sound he vocalized. His face was serious and a bit sullen, but softened slightly as he lingered in thought. Gradually, a small smile appeared. He finished his inspection and headed off to retrieve the jungle herbs.<p>

* * *

><p>Back in the hut area, Mary Ann was busying herself with the cutting and chopping of different fruits – pineapple, papaya, guava and mangoes. She was glad that they had such a plentiful variety of produce on the island. The lettuce from the garden sat in another bowl, awaiting the herbs the Professor was to bring back. <em>How beautiful it all looks<em>, she inwardly marveled as she eyed everything spread out across the table. All the different colors blended so well together. The scents were also a delight. Her thoughts began to wander back to her home in Kansas, and a certain special event popped into her head. She let out a little sigh, and then a little giggle and shoulder shrug, knowing she had just the perfect anniversary moment to relive after all. It was probably not as grand as some of the things the others might come up with, she supposed, but it was special to her. As she continued to dwell on happy thoughts, she pulled some more of their homegrown vegetables onto the cutting board that the Skipper had fashioned for her, years ago, from a plank of wood from the Minnow, and continued on with her planned recipes.

Ginger was in the girl's hut, going through her gowns. After helping Mary Ann, and then preparing one of her own dessert specialties in their make-shift kitchen area, she had headed back there to continue her personal deliberations. She had changed her mind about the outfit she had decided upon that morning. Remembering this was to be an evening affair, she was trying to pick something with a little more sparkle. Ginger chose her white beaded gown, and held it up to her statuesque form as she glanced into the mirror. Still not settled on which memory to share that night, she sat down to think. The rustle of the beading on the gown brought to mind something that tickled her pink. With a sly smile she looked in the mirror and gave a little wink to herself. The decision was made. She kissed a finger then touched it to the mirror.

"Those others actresses back in Hollywood have got nothing on you honey," she said to her reflection, as she fluffed the back of her hair.

* * *

><p>In the Howell's hut there was quite a bit of planning going on. Mrs. Howell was seated at her table, feathered pen in one hand, while her other bejeweled hand lightly touched her chin as she contemplatively hovered over her event planning journal.<p>

"Thurston, there is just simply too much to do! How can we possibly be expected to organize an elegant anniversary party in only a matter of hours? This would be simply unheard of back home. I suppose we must dispense with the invitations as the party is tonight, but there is still the coordinating of our attire, and the matter of the gifts... How on earth are we to get all this done by this evening?" said the flustered heiress.

"Lovey, darling, you're making far too much of this," replied her husband, as he sat sprawled out on the lounge chair in their hut, sipping on some beverage of unknown contents. "It's just a little distraction Gilligan thought up to entertain us for the evening. And there was certainly no mention of gifts!" he stated, contemplating how this party would affect his wallet. "Really, dear, you're acting as if this were the social event of the season," he continued, after taking another sip from the straw extending out from his bamboo cup.

"But it is!" she replied with full drama and a gleeful smile as she contemplated the event ahead, "…and of course there must be gifts! What proper anniversary celebration does not include the giving of gifts? Thurston, darling, I think all this time we've spent away from civilization has made you forget the rules of etiquette. "

"You're quite right my dear. I suppose it _is_ up to us to bring class to this evening's little island soiree."

"It most certainly is!" Mrs. Howell confirmed with one determined nod of her head. Smiling, she directed her attention back to her journal. A moment later, she looked up and asked her husband, "Thurston, have you decided upon an event from your past to celebrate tonight?"

"Well, I have given it some thought, but I'm torn between the time I made my first million, or my second million, or my…"

"Thurston Howell the Third! Really! I do believe you are completely missing the point of dear Gilligan's suggestion," said Mrs. Howell sternly. "We are supposed to think of something personal. Oh, darling, I _dooo_ wish you would try a little harder," she looked at him with serious, but lovingly pleading eyes.

"Try harder? Why, I'm simply _exhaaaausted_ from the whole extravaganza already. I think Teddy and I need a little nap," he said standing up and starting to head over to his bed.

"Well, you will have to take a nap elsewhere," said his wife as she shooed him to the door, the feathers atop her garment flurrying about. "I have a lot to do, and you're in my way. Now go!"

With that Mr. Howell exited through the regally decorated red lined doors of their hut and headed off to find the perfect sport for a nap outside, hopefully under the cool shade of some palm trees. He was aiming toward one of their outdoor lounging chairs when Gilligan came running through the camp and plowed right into him, knocking them both to the ground.

"I'm real sorry Mr. Howell," said Gilligan as he helped the millionaire to his feet.

"Really, Gilligan, you must learn to watch where you are going!" insisted Mr. Howell as he brushed off his clothes and straightened his ascot. "And what exactly is that awful scent you are sporting? It's positively dreadful," he continued, taking a few steps back. "I think my eyes are actually starting to water," Mr. Howell stated, dramatically contorting his face.

"Oh… that must be the fish," suggested Gilligan. With shoulders shrugged and hands flying about along with the explanation he continued, "You see, I dropped the bucket of fish on the Skipper, and then the fish fell everywhere so I had to pick them all up again. Or maybe it was stuff I was using for bait… or… "

"That's quite enough Gilligan. I think I've got the picture," he said, tapping Gilligan on the arm to halt his explanation. "We Howells are not much interested in fish tales… unless of course they are about _gold_fish. Ha! GOLDfish! My heavens, I am a witty one," he continued, making himself chuckle.

Gilligan just stood there and smiled politely, as he usually did when Mr. Howell would break into one of his rambling quips, whether he understood what he was talking about or not.

A small island breeze kicked up and got more of the stench wafting up the nose of Thurston Howell, III.

"My boy, I _do_ hope you intend to clean up before our little celebration this evening."

"Of course, Mr. Howell. I've just got to go pull in the lobster traps, and then I'll check and see if Mary Ann has my other shirt cleaned."

"Well run along then, son. Don't let me delay you a moment longer," was Mr. Howell's response as he gave Gilligan a little shove toward the path to the lagoon, anxious to put some distance between them.

"Okay, Mr. Howell. See you later!" Gilligan shouted over his shoulder as he ran off to complete his duties, becoming just a blur of red and white through the green jungle foliage.

Gilligan was long gone, but the scent remained. Then Mr. Howell caught a whiff off himself, and rolled his eyes skyward. The stench of fish and the briny ocean was all over him as well. He started back toward his hut to change his clothes, knowing full well that his wife would not be pleased - either with the sight _or _scent of him. He paused in place for a moment. A devilish grin passed across his face_. She certainly WILL be happy later though_, he mused, imagining how his wife would react that evening when he shared the "anniversary" story he had just decided upon. He could hardly contain himself as he scurried back to the hut.

* * *

><p>In her husband's absence, Mrs. Howell had been continuing with her preparations. She had still not decided upon which delightful memory she would share with the group, but she was sure something would come to her eventually. Of first importance was the attire for her and her husband. As she went through the many items in her island closet, she wondered what the others would wear. She thought of the girls, and how handy they had been over the years, sewing new garments with bits of fabric and discarded clothing that had washed ashore. Yet their wardrobe remained limited. She wished she could share some of her finery with them, as they had become like daughters to her. <em> If only we were closer in size,<em> she thought to herself. _Mary Ann is so tiny, and Ginger is so tall…_ Then she thought of the men, and how they sadly wore the same tired items week after week. A wondrous smile lit across her face as she made a decision regarding some "anniversary" gifts for her fellow castaways.

As she continued to pull items from her closet, looking for just the right attire for a formal dinner party, her hand ran across a beautiful, long, velvet gown that she had not been able to wear since they had been on the island. It was far too hot and humid for such a dress, but as her hand fell across the fabric, a thought crossed her mind that made her wrinkle up her nose in as she did when she was very delighted.

"I've got it!" she proclaimed with a small squeal, clasping her hands together. She allowed herself but a moment to dwell on her memories, then quickly roused herself out of her revelry, and continued on running about the hut, as if she were preparing for a debutant ball.

* * *

><p>Down at the lagoon, the Professor emerged from a leafy patch of island foliage, bucket in hand, just as Gilligan was pulling in his lobster traps.<p>

"Well, hello there Gilligan. Any success?" asked the Professor, nodding toward the traps.

"Yeah! You won't believe the size of the lobsters I caught. We're gonna eat real good tonight!" Gilligan answered proudly. Then he asked, "What are you doing down here Professor? I thought you were picking herbs and things for the party tonight."

"Oh, that's all completed Gilligan. I'm just headed over to the spring to get some water for a little project I'm working on for this evening."

"What kind of project?" asked the first mate.

"That, Gilligan, will be a surprise," he replied with a broad smile. "See you a little later," said the Professor as he gave Gilligan a kind double tap on the shoulder and continued on his way.

"I can't believe all these lobsters I caught!" said Gilligan out loud, turning attention back to his task at hand. He gathered them up as quickly as he could, and started to head back to camp. All he could think of was how pleased the Skipper would be when he showed him the catch. All of a sudden, Gilligan came to a complete halt. The wheels of his mind were turning, and a large smile appeared on his face. He resumed his return to camp with an even faster pace.

The party was only hours away.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE: HAPPY MEMORIES BEGIN

The dining area was decorated beautifully. Flowers were on the table, and strategically placed everywhere. The sweet-smelling aroma was beckoning, and some of the happy celebrants had already arrived. The Skipper and Mr. Howell were standing near their current version of a turntable, choosing some appropriate music for the occasion. A few months back, the Professor had come up with a special winding mechanism which enabled the device to sustain movement on its own for about thirty minutes before its handle needed to be cranked up again. Now they could all enjoy music and dancing without one castaway always needing to man the contraption.

Gilligan, with his clean red shirt tucked in and buttons done up all the way to the top, was pulling a chair out for Mrs. Howell.

"Thank you, dear boy," she said, patting him on cheek before she sat down.

The girls were still in their hut. Ginger had just finished pinning a lovely red flower in Mary Ann's hair, and they were about to head over to the party when they heard a knock at their door. They opened it and there stood the Professor, dressed in his brown corduroy sport coat that he donned for special occasions.

"My, don't you ladies look lovely this evening," he said charmingly. In quite the chivalrous fashion he asked, "Might I escort you both to the celebration?" The girls agreed, each took and arm and they were off.

Once all had arrived, the festivities began. Delicious food was covering the table. Music played on in the background. Everyone was laughing and talking, and inwardly equally excited to tell their special story and hear that of the others. They didn't know what to expect.

Finally, when all were full, the Skipper thought it was time to move on to the exciting telling of the tales. From his position at the head of the table, he cleared his throat loud enough to get everyone's attention.

"Folks," he said with a most cheerful tone, "I think it's time to start sharing our anniversary stories. Who wants to go first?"

"Why don't you go first Skipper?" suggested Gilligan. "After all, you're the Skipper."

"Well, that's awfully nice of you Gilligan, but perhaps we should let one of the ladies go first," suggested the Skipper in a gentlemanly fashion. "Mrs. Howell, why don't you tell us what anniversary _you_ would like to celebrate today."

Everyone's eyes turned attentively toward Mrs. Howell. She sat there beaming and regal, with her perfectly coiffed hair topped with a tiara, and the bracelets worn over her long white gloves sparkling brilliantly. Her hands were raised, poised to tell her tale…

"Now this may sound a little silly, but Gilligan did suggest something small, something no one else was aware of…" she said, hesitating to continue.

"Is is something that made you happy, Mrs. Howell?" asked Gilligan.

"Why yes. Very happy indeed," she replied.

"Then it will be a great story! Go ahead tell us," he encouraged.

All the others pleaded for her to continue.

"Well, all right then. No one here knows this, not even my darling Thurston, but I was somewhat of a mischievous child, and quite a handful for my parents, the poor dears."

"My Lovey, a little troublemaker, eh?" said Mr. Howell will a grin.

"Yes, dear. I'm sorry to have to tell you these things, but it's the truth. I would frequently run off and scamper about outside with some of the servant's children. I would not be present when the dinner bell rang, and when I was finally found and cleaned up, I refused to eat my food, or sit still at the table. Mother and father tried everything to make me behave, but I suppose I just had a stubborn streak in me."

None of the other castaways interrupted, but some did smile, as they recognized a similar strong will and determination in the Mrs. Howell that they had grown to love, and were secretly delighted to learn that she too had a childhood much like their own.

She continued, "Finally, one day my parents promised me something very special – a dessert that I had never tasted before. They told me I could only have some if I would promise to behave with refinement and decorum during our dinner with the Duke and Duchess of… oh, somewhere of some import – I can't even remember where they were from now. Was it Germany, or France, or…"

"Never mind where they were from Lovey dear, just continue," urged her husband, bringing her back on point.

"Oh yes, of course, darling. Now, where was I?"

"You were going to have dinner with a Duke and Duchess," replied Mary Ann, her hands gripping the edge of the table in anticipation.

"That's right. Thank you, dear. Well, I was so curious to see what this wondrous dessert was that I sat still throughout the whole dinner. Finally, the meal ended and the desserts were brought to the table in elegant silver dishes. When the covers were raised, there it was…"

All were drawn into Mrs. Howell's dramatic telling of her tale, but Gilligan was especially wide-eyed.

"It was the most wondrous, delectable thing I had ever tasted. Its texture was so soft and smooth that it reminded me of velvet. I carefully put each spoonful into my mouth with the utmost of care and delicacy and relished every bit until it was gone. It was the most fantastic culinary delight I had ever encountered."

"What was it, Mrs. Howell?" Gilligan asked with great enthusiasm, unable to contain himself and longer.

"It was… ice cream!" the heiress proclaimed.

"Ice cream?" her fellow castaways all said at once.

"Yes! Ice cream," she stated firmly. "Now I realize that this is something quite commonplace nowadays. Well, perhaps not here on the island, but back home I know it is considered normal fare among all social strata. However, you must understand that I was quite young at the time and I had never tasted anything like it. It was divine!" said Mrs. Howell, clasping her hands together and wrinkling up her nose in delight. She continued, "I promised my parents that evening that I would always behave like a lady, if I could just have more of that delicious frozen treat, and I kept my word. I wanted to act as refined, delicate and elegant as I found that dish to be."

"And you most certainly have, my dear," said her husband, kissing her gloved hand.

Mary Ann looked across the table at the woman she had come to admire so greatly, and smiled lovingly and appreciatively at her. She had always been in awe of Mrs. Howell's sophistication, her elegance and her grace. _And to think… such a small thing like ice cream could transform an impish child into such a lady…" _reflected Mary Ann. She tilted her head slightly as she watched the sweet scene before her, clutching her hand to her chest as she watched Mr. Howell kiss his wife's hand.

"Gee, Mrs. Howell," interjected Gilligan, "you must have been real happy when we got those two buckets of ice cream I wished for!"

Ginger and Mary Ann both shot a worried glance across the table at the Professor. They knew that every time the subject of that wishing rock came up, the Professor was insistent upon reminding all of them that the ice cream must have fallen off a ship or been dropped by an airplane. But he said nothing of the sort that evening. The Professor, seated on the other side of Mrs. Howell, just smiled warmly at her as she continued to express herself.

"I was delighted beyond belief!" Mrs. Howell replied to Gilligan's words.

"You didn't act any different than the rest of us, Mrs. Howell," Ginger stated.

"Yes, I know dear. That is because a Howell must be composed at all times. But secretly… my heart was aflutter. I _adoooore_ ice cream… and when we get home, that is the first thing I shall have served at our table," proclaimed Mrs. Howell decisively.

Ginger smiled at Mrs. Howell, who was seated directly across from her. She was growing more and more impressed with the dramatic abilities of the heiress. She remembered trying to teach her how to be an actress years before when it was thought that the Howells had lost all their money and needed to acquire some skills to function in society. Mrs. Howell didn't seem to be able to pick up the trade too well that day, but perhaps she misjudged her. The way she told her tale that evening, keeping them all at the edge of their seats – it was captivating. And being able to pretend that she was simply eating an everyday dish when in reality she was bursting inside with delight over that ice cream – well that was some ability indeed! _A natural knack for acting after all! Mrs. Howell. Who knew? s_he thought to herself.

"Well, Mrs. Howell," said the Skipper with a giant smile, "I think that is a PERFECT anniversary to celebrate! The first time you had ice cream, and how it helped to make you the gracious and cultured lady we all know and love. Allow me to be the first to say, happy anniversary!"

"HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!" they all cheered in unison. As the castaways clapped, Mrs. Howell smiled brightly, and politely nodded to them in gratitude.

When the applause subsided, Mr. Howell rose to his feet.

"As my dear wife has demonstrated such bravery by sharing a surprising tidbit from her early years, I would like to add a spot of history from my childhood as well… if the two other ladies would permit me."

"Oh yes, please do Mr. Howell," encouraged Mary Ann.

Ginger nodded in agreement, motioning for him to continue.

"Well, you see, I too went through a bit of a rough patch in my youth," began Mr. Howell. "I can still hear dear old dad now, threatening punishment if I did not get my language under control."

"Was he going to wash your mouth out with soap, Mr. Howell?" asked Gilligan.

"No my boy, even worse - with _domestic champagne!_" he replied, shuddering at the memory.

"Oh, Thurston! How dreadful!" said Mrs. Howell, touching her hand lightly to her chest.

"Indeed…" said Mr. Howell, reflectively. "However, what I have to share is even more shocking than a substandard substance intruding upon the refined Howell palate. I had a little run in with Gilligan earlier today that brought to mind something from my past that I have preferred to keep undisclosed until now. Yet, it was a pivotal occurrence in my life, and probably made me into the man you see before you this evening."

Putting his hand on his wife's shoulder, he admonished her dramatically, "Be strong Lovey. This may be hard to hear…"


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4 – THE HOWELL VAULT OPENS

"Go on Thurston," said Mrs. Howell, sitting up straight. It was indeed at her urging that he decided to share something truly personal rather than just regale the group with some corporate nonsense or money amassing diatribe. So, she intended to be completely composed and thus prepared herself to absorb whatever her husband might share.

"Well," began Mr. Howell, "I am ashamed to say that I was not always the picture of courtesy and civility that I am now."

Several eyes rolled, eyebrows rose or giggles were suppressed around the table at that comment, but Mr. Howell did not see the reactions of his fellow castaways. He had assumed a dramatic stance, with one hand on his cummerbund, the other gesturing grandly, and his eyes directed skyward.

"I was somewhat of an insolent child, perhaps a bit spoiled indeed. By the time I had reached my late teens, I began to assert myself and my opinions with even greater force, being particularly boorish to the servants. Thus, one day, father announced that he had secured me a job for the summer."

"Was it president one of his smaller subsidiary companies, dear?" asked Mrs. Howell.

"No, Lovey, I'm sorry to say that it was not," was his reply.

"Managing the country club, perhaps?" was her second hopeful guess, her voice getting a little shaky, wondering where her husband's story might be leading.

"No my dear, I'm afraid not," countered Mr. Howell, his voice growing more serious as well.

Mrs. Howell was quickly losing her resolve to retain her composure. Not being able to imagine anything worse that running the country club, she said, "Oh Thurston, you're frightening me. Where on earth was this job?"

"It was a fast-food eatery, in the low rent district."

His revelation sparked various reactions. Gilligan had a dreamy look on his face as thoughts of a big, juicy hamburger danced in his head. He could practically taste it. Mary Ann was also smiling at Mr. Howell's reference, although a bit wistfully, as she remembered the afternoons she spent with her friends at the small malt shop back home. Mrs. Howell, on the other hand, looked horrified.

_A Howell, associated with anything so common as a vendor peddling throwaway cuts of beef...on the streets? Impossible! _she thought. "My dear, how utterly dreadful. Why on earth would your father buy you such a place as…"

Her husband cut her off. "Lovey dear, I think you are misunderstanding me. I didn't own the place. I _worked_ there," clarified Mr. Howell.

A gasp was heard across the table. No one was prepared for that, least of all Mrs. Howell.

"A Howell? Working… with their hands? I think I may faint!" said his wife dramatically, as she picked up her fan which was lying on the table, opening it and putting it into fast action. "Thurston, are you telling another one of your jokes that I don't quite understand?"

"No, no Lovey, it is all too true."

The Skipper was completely taken aback. Given Mr. Howell's penchant for lounging around and his ability to get others to do his share of the work on the island, he could not begin to imagine the millionaire behind the counter of a burger joint. "You mean you actually cooked the food on a greasy grill and served the customers?" he asked in disbelief.

"Most certainly not!" the millionaire proclaimed, appearing offended. "The very idea!"

"Well, what _did_ you do, Mr. Howell?" asked Ginger.

"I…" Mr. Howell then crossed one arm across his chest and brought the other up in front of his mouth and mumbled out the rest of the sentence in such a low tone that none of the others could make out a word that he said.

"You what?" asked the Skipper, wrinkling his brow.

"I said I…" and again, he mumbled out the rest of the sentence.

All the other six looked confused and continued begging him to repeat what he said. Finally Mr. Howell took his hand away from his mouth and burst out loudly, "I cut up onions and took out the _traaaahsh._"

The Professor and Mary Ann looked at each other across the table in astonishment, his eyebrows up and her mouth open. Ginger covered her mouth in shock. The Skipper was speechless, and this time Mrs. Howell really did look like she was going to faint. She started tipping backwards, and the Professor reached out an arm to steady the grand lady.

"You, Mr. Howell? I can't believe it!" said Gilligan, innocently voicing the words they were all thinking.

"Yes, my boy, it's true. Brings tears to your eyes, does it not?" Then he mumbled a little aside in addition, "Certainly brought tears to _mine_… in more ways than one I might add."

On he went with his story. "I positively reeked of onions, and as the establishment did not believe in wasting the liners for their garbage pails, they had me remove the trash into bins in the rear of the building, and bring the liners back for reuse. I must say, the scent I carried was unbearable – much like the one you were sporting earlier today, Gillian," he said, addressing the first mate with one of his cheeky smiles.

Gilligan, who was still dreaming of his hamburger, smiled at the mention of his name, but then quickly realized it was not compliment he initially took it to be. "Hey…" he remarked in protest, and then his smiled dropped down into a frown.

"Thurston, I don't think I can hear another word of this. Why, why - you're not at all the man I thought I married."

"Lovey, please take hold of yourself, my dear," pleaded Mr. Howell, sitting down beside his wife and patting her hand. "This doesn't change the man I am. It was just dear old dad's way of trying to teach me a lesson of sorts. Also, he was curious to see how long I could last in such an environment."

"And exactly how long was that Mr. Howell?" asked the Skipper.

"Well, I'm a quick learner you see, so of course I was fired by the end of the day."

The Skipper rolled his eyes. _I'm surprised he lasted that long,_ he thought to himself.

"A limousine was sent, and I was whisked back to the mansion for a shower and change of clothes, then I was immediately brought to the Howell corporate headquarters where I was given my own office and my first real job at father's company."

"So, you mean to tell us that this never happened again? Really, Thurston, it's one thing to try and do our part here on this dreary little island, but when we return home, you must promise me that you have no plans to run off some day and…and…," she trailed off, getting herself quite worked up.

Thurston Howell put a reassuring arm around his wife and said, "Lovey dear, you know what I always say: Hard work never killed anybody… _but why take the risk!_" adding his dry laugh at the punch line and giving his wife his sly grin.

She smiled back and him and felt herself reviving, but the other castaways were confused.

"So, what exactly are you saying, Mr. Howell?" asked the Skipper. "Are you celebrating the anniversary of when you learned the value of a hard day's work… or the day you got your first job at your father's company?"

"Actually, I was celebrating never having to do manual labor ever again…" he countered.

His reply was met with more eye rolls around the table.

_Oh, Mr. Howell…, _thought the Professor to himself. He was amazed at how quickly the cheerful atmosphere had devolved into one more chaotic in nature. He had been sitting there, studying the scene as if it were a chess match, contemplating whether or not he should interject and remind Mr. Howell of the purpose of the celebration.

Others seated around the table had been having similar thoughts. However the castaways felt their tensions ease as Mr. Howell continued, "…but upon reflection earlier today, I realized that I _did_ learn something from my little foray into such a workplace."

Mr. Howell rose to his feet again, dramatically explaining, "I had experienced the struggles of the common man. I never wish to partake of them again myself, of course, I assure you, however the entire extravaganza did most certainly make me appreciate the hard work of others. I realize that my gratitude may not shine through on many occasions, but allow me to be clear. You ladies and gentlemen seated here have made this island exile far more bearable for me and my dear wife, and for that I shall be eternally grateful, and I wish to offer you all my sincerest of thanks."

The others felt their insides warm as Mr. Howell expressed feelings that they knew were difficult for him to admit, but were genuine and heartfelt.

"Well...happy anniversary, Mr. Howell – for everything that you just said," stated the good-natured first mate, with a big smile.

"HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!" all the others chimed in together.

As they clapped, he offered thanks to all and re-seated himself beside his wife.

"Oh Thurston, that was beautiful," said Mrs. Howell, putting her gloved hand lovingly on her husband's cheek and patting it gently with endearment. The color had returned to her face, as did her full smile.

"Yes, yes, well… in the spirit of things - this being an anniversary celebration after all - we wanted to add to the occasion by sharing some gifts," Mr. Howell stated as he picked up various items he had stowed beneath the table.

"Now, Mr. Howell, that's not necessary," the Skipper said.

"Yeah, Mr. Howell. I didn't know we were giving each other presents. I was so busy all day just getting things ready for the party," said a concerned Gilligan.

The others were adding similar sentiments.

"Nonsense!" said Mr. Howell, silencing them all. "You all worked very hard to put together this _maaarvelous _meal for us,"

"And decorated everything so _beauuuutifullly_," inserted his wife.

"So we wanted to contribute something as well," finished Mr. Howell.

Acknowledging each one in turn as he spoke their names, Mr. Howell continued, "Skipper, Professor, Gilligan… My dear Lovey reminded me this afternoon that your wardrobes are rather limited, and suggested that I might share something out of the Howell inventory. I know we packed light for this little island excursion, but I have more than enough to spare a few items."

_Packed light?_ Laughing internally, but only letting a little smile show on his face, Gilligan thought back to how long it had taken to get the Howell's luggage aboard the Minnow they day the departed from port. _Trunk after trunk after trunk….._he remembered.

"Well, I may have suggested it, but Thurston picked out everything himself," Mrs. Howell said proudly. She had wondered why her husband had been so cooperative with her suggestion earlier that evening in their hut, but after hearing his story, she understood completely.

Mr. Howell got up and walked over to Gilligan first, handing him various clothing items he had worn during his brief stint as Thurston Howell, IV.

"Gee, thanks, Mr. Howell. This is awfully nice of you, but I'm sure I'll just mess up all these nice clothes. You know how I'm always falling into things and spilling things, and…"

"Yes Gilligan, I'm well aware of your activities. So, perhaps you can reserve these items for special occasions, such as this evening," Mr. Howell replied, helping Gilligan on with a suit jacket.

"Good idea, Mr. Howell," replied Gilligan, sitting up a little straighter and bobbing his head around a little in pride over his instantly upgraded look.

"And as for you other two gentlemen, if you would stop by my hut tomorrow morning, I feel I have items that can be resized if they fit your taste. Ha! Sort of a millionaire's yard sale if you will…" he said with his high society laugh. "I'm sure seams can be taken in… or let out," he said, patting the Skipper on the arm, then mumbling, "big fellow…biceps and all…"

"All right, Mr. Howell," said the Skipper, brushing Mr. Howell off of him and letting that reference to his weight go by with just a smile.

"In the meantime, here is a little something I think you can both don for the remainder of this evening." Mr. Howell handed a silk ascot to the Skipper and the Professor. As he returned to his seat, both voiced their appreciation.

"And girls," Mrs. Howell said, directing her attention over to Ginger and Mary Ann, "I have something for you both as well." First she handed Mary Ann a wooden jewelry box with beautiful carvings and ivory insets on the top.

Mary Ann's eyes lit up with surprise and delight as she examined it with care, running her hands over the smooth edges. "It's absolutely beautiful, Mrs. Howell."

"I've seen that little cardboard box you keep your valuables in dear, and it simply won't do. Now, this would be far more appropriate. It might not appear to be much, but it has been in my family for generations."

"Oh, Mrs. Howell! I could never accept something so valuable!" Mary Ann protested, trying to hand the gift back.

"Nonsense! Of course you can dear. Since Thurston and I were never able to have children of our own, I have often wondered who this would get passed along to. Since you and Ginger have become like daughters to me, I thought it only fitting that I should share some of my treasured items with you both."

Mary Ann was truly touched by the sentiment, and honored to be thought of so fondly. "Mrs. Howell… this is so kind of you, but I really don't own that much jewelry, and certainly nothing fine enough to keep in this beautiful box."

"Well, you do now dear. Open it," replied Mrs. Howell.

Mary Ann's eyes widened. Inside the jewelry box was a very dainty pair of deep red ruby earrings. "Oh, they are absolutely beautiful!" she exclaimed.

"I thought they would go quite nicely with your red party dress," she said, referencing the outfit Mary Ann was wearing.

"Oh thank you so much Mrs. Howell! I'll treasure them always!"

As Mary Ann was putting on her earrings, Mrs. Howell handed Ginger her gift. Ginger lifted the lid of the box, gasped and snapped it closed so quickly that only Gilligan, seated beside her, got a glance at what was inside.

Ginger started to cry. All she could say to Mrs. Howell was, "How did you know?"

"Know what?" asked the heiress.

"My story! How could you know? I didn't tell anyone…" Ginger replied through her tears.

"My dear girl, whatever are you talking about?" asked Mrs. Howell, clueless as to what could have been provoking the reaction that Ginger was having.

Tears were running down Ginger's cheeks and she was speechless. The others could do nothing but wait as Ginger tried to compose herself enough to explain.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5 – 'THE GINGER GRANT STORY'

Ginger was still shaking inside at the amazing choice of a gift that Mrs. Howell had produced that evening. There was, in reality, no way that the heiress could have known the story she was going to share, so this was nothing but a coincidence – and a superbly wonderful coincidence at that. However, it knocked Ginger off her game momentarily.

Sternly she said inwardly, _Get a hold of yourself! You're Ginger Grant, the actress. Even if you are not okay, you have to be okay. You're an actress … so ACT!_

She cleared her throat a bit.

"Ginger, are you all right?" asked the Skipper, with great uneasiness. He could never bear to see a lady cry.

"I'm fine," said Ginger in reply, dabbing her eyes lightly so as not to mar her makeup. Mary Ann had her hand resting lightly and supportively on the movie star's shoulder.

"Are you sure, Ginger?" she asked, genuinely concerned.

Looking around the table at the worried faces she reassured them, "Really everyone. I'm fine. The gift just caught me by surprise, that's all."

"Well, what's in the box, dear girl?" asked Mr. Howell. He was unaware of what his wife has chosen as gifts for the girls and now that Mary Ann's had been revealed, his curiosity over what his dear Lovey had picked out for Ginger was getting harder and harder to contain. He did not like to be out the loop when matters touched on the financial, and he was sure anything his wife could have produced would have an effect on his fiscal future.

The others too were clamoring for Ginger to reveal the contents of the box.

Ginger, appearing to be fully recovered from her emotional outburst, acknowledged their requests but said, "I know you are all curious, but I would like to show you the gift _after_ I finish my story. Then my reaction will make much more sense."

The others understood and agreed to wait patiently until after she shared her story. The emotions Ginger had experienced were truly emotions of surprise and joy, however no one knew that. _Who knows what they are imagining?_ she thought to herself. Perhaps she could use this unanticipated turn of events, and the emotions it stirred, not only in herself, but in all the castaways, to good effect.

Ginger had, in fact, spent the late afternoon mentally scripting a suspenseful way to begin her anniversary story. Now her unexpected show of tears was threatening to disrupt what she had planned to be, not only a wonderful tale to tell, but also a chance to practice the craft that she loved. She knew she had to pull herself together and press on, brushing off the emotions that were overwhelming her. So, being the consummate actress that she was, she composed herself and began to speak.

"Well, it all started many years ago." Ginger then paused and looked around the table, making sure all had settled in and were paying attention. As she continued to weave her tale, she added broad gestures and elongated pauses for effect at spots where the narrative allowed.

"The night was dark and very stormy," she resumed. "The winds outside were howling. Rain was pelting down hard on the roof. There was a loud knock on the door. Despite pleas in the background to wait… I rushed forward, being pulled by inward forces that I could not control. I _had_ to know who was on the other side of that door. I ran to it and flung it open wide without thinking. Suddenly, I felt powerless to move. Two large arms had reached around me and pinned my arms to my sides. I was lifted off the floor. No matter how I struggled, I could not break free. Finally, they released me, and I ran as fast as my legs could carry me."

Gilligan's mouth was open almost as wide as his eyes. Mary Ann was clutching the edge of the table, her nails digging into the bamboo. The Professor, Mr. and Mrs. Howell and the Skipper had all leaned in closer so they could catch every word.

Only Gilligan was brave enough to break the silence, asking, "And then what happened?"

As much as she was enjoying the feeling of performance once again, with an audience captivated, holding their breath, hanging on her every word, Ginger just could not put her friends through too much more. It was time to take them off this emotional roller coaster and get back to the purpose of the occasion. Therefore she ended her acting exercise and answered Gilligan's question.

"My mother said, 'Get back here and give your Aunt Ida a proper hug!' She had come for a visit when I was about six or seven and when I opened the door she grabbed me and hugged me so hard that I couldn't move. She even lifted me right off the floor!" the starlet said with a small chuckle and a twinkle in her eye.

"Oh, Ginger…" said the Skipper with a relieved smile.

The others exhaled a collective sigh of relief as well. They had become accustomed to living on the island with a well-trained actress, and they were well aware of her penchant for adding extra drama to an event whenever possible, so they had learned to take it in stride. However, she still managed to catch them off guard sometimes, much to her delight, but their chagrin.

"Anyway, she brought us all little gifts, wrapped up in the prettiest paper and topped with beautiful large bows. But I was just a kid. I was more anxious to see what was inside, so I tore it open."

"Well, what did she give you, Ginger?" asked Mary Ann, now recovered from the dramatic introduction. She had heard Ginger tell so many stories about movie stars and casting directors, so she was intrigued to hear something about her life as a child. So far, she could relate. Mary Ann thought back to the excitement she always felt at getting a wrapped gift back home, even though it usually ended up being an article of clothing or some type of kitchen utensil.

"Actually, it was a box of beads," answered Ginger. "Little, pretty pink ones. And some string. They were nothing expensive of course, but they were small and sparkling. I quickly strung them together into a necklace for myself. Oh, how I loved that pink necklace!" Ginger said with her hands clasped together, her smile bright, and her eyes shining at the memory.

Gilligan was confused. He was sure Ginger's favorite memory would be related to one of her famous movies. He was racking his brain trying to figure out how what she was saying, and what he briefly saw in the box that Mrs. Howell gave her, could possibly relate to the films he had seen her in. As Ginger talked he was mentally reviewing the plots of _Belly__ Dancers From Bali-Bali_, _Mohawk Over the Moon_, and _The Rain Dance of Rango-Rango_. He was about to move on to _The Hula Girl and the Fullback_ when something occurred to him. A look of realization passed across his face. He really was a lot smarter than the others gave him credit for. He was a deep thinker in reality, but just came at things from a different angle, so sometimes it appeared as though he was not on the same page as the rest of the castaways. In this case, his natural intelligence, coupled with the added advantage of having a brief look at the gift Ginger received, had allowed him to quickly make a correct connection.

Ginger had been continuing to talk about that necklace of pink beads and how she wore it everywhere – with her red dress and white boots, in all the family pictures, and every time they went out to the store – when Gilligan interrupted her.

"Hey Ginger, is that why you…"

Before he completed his sentence, Ginger gave him a sharp kick under the table. She knew he had briefly seen what was in the box and was putting things together, but she wanted to complete her story.

"Oww!" proclaimed Gilligan, grabbing his leg under the table and looking at Ginger, wondering what the kick was for. She subtly shook her head and looked at him with pleading eyes, hoping he would understand. He did.

"What's the matter, Gilligan?" asked the Skipper, with a touch of irritation in his voice. He was so engrossed in Ginger's story that he was oblivious to what was transpiring right next to him.

"Oh, nothing Skipper. Must have just been a mosquito or something."

"Well then, be quiet. Go on Ginger," encouraged the Skipper.

"Like I was saying," continued Ginger, "I wore that necklace everywhere, no matter what I had on, even if it didn't match. I remember dressing up like Florence Nightingale, in a white outfit and a nurse's cap that my mother had given me, but I still would wear that pink necklace with it. I really always thought I would grow up to be a nurse. I loved to pretend I was working in a hospital and I would wrap up all my family with bandages… you know… for practice."

When Ginger mentioned the bandages, Mr. Howell was thinking back to the ladies' attempts to learn first aid by practicing on the men. They had all ended up with their arms in a sling. If it came down to a career decision between nursing and acting, he inwardly decided, _I do believe she chose wisely_. He did not comment on this of course. He just raised his eyebrows, nodded his head and smiled as she continued.

"When I would wrap up my 'patients' I would sing to them too. Everyone said I had a great voice, and that just encouraged me to practice my singing. I would stand in front of the mirror as I sang different songs. I loved my little nursing outfit, but I would look at my necklace more than anything else. I would blow a kiss to the mirror and try different voices."

Mary Ann smiled, as she knew Ginger still did this on a daily basis as she sat at the vanity in their hut.

"One night my father was watching me and joked that I should be an actress instead of a nurse. That had never occurred to me before, but it made perfect sense. From then on I only wanted to be an actress. I would twirl my necklace around and try to be other types of characters. Every type. From country girls like the ones from Li'l Abner to the rich, beautiful, movie stars I would see on the big screen. I would pretend my little beads were pearls or diamonds, and I would imagine that someday I would make enough money to buy a real necklace..."

The Professor was listening with a warm smile on his face, reflecting on the many times Ginger had volunteered to be his lab assistant, and how she loved dressing up to look the part. Especially touching to him had been the time when he had happened upon her in the jungle, contemplating her decisions in life as they faced what they thought would be their eminent and untimely end due to an incoming missile. She had been questioning whether she should have pursued a career in nursing. However, as she told her tale about her beaded necklace, it reaffirmed in his head what he had told her on that occasion. She was able to help people by entertaining them. Perhaps she would have made a suitable nurse, he thought to himself, but judging by the way she was captivating the others with this simple tale, acting was obviously her true calling.

Ginger was bringing her story to what seemed like an obvious conclusion – that she became a famous actress and bought a diamond or pearl necklace. However she continued, "…but I never was able to afford one."

"But you're a movie star, Ginger!" stated Gilligan, somewhat in disbelief.

"That's true Gilligan, but being an actress doesn't quite pay what you think it would. Why do you think I had a roommate? Between headshots and gowns and makeup, there wasn't a lot of money left over. Sure, I was able to buy some diamond earrings, and a ring or two, but never anything like I used to dream I would have. Remember? Before our shipwreck I was scheduled to play Cleopatra in the Broadway production of "Pyramid for Two" and I'm sure that would have been the role that brought me the fame and the money I would have needed to live a different kind of life," replied Ginger as she stared off wistfully in thought.

But she allowed herself only a moment to dwell on her lost career, as she wanted to display the gift as the grand conclusion to her story. By this point, most of those sitting around the table were assuming that the box Ginger was now clutching in her hands contained a necklace of some sort, but they were not prepared for what they were about to see.

"That's why Mrs. Howell's present is so incredibly special," stated Ginger, as she slowly opened the box so that all around the table could see its contents. Her eyes met those of Mrs. Howell, who was the only other person at the table who knew exactly where Ginger's story was leading. As the others uttered a collective gasp, Mrs. Howell just gave Ginger a little wink.

Inside the box was a beautiful necklace with several small, glistening diamonds, but also a larger pink stone in the center.

As everyone leaned in to get a closer look, some knew exactly what that pink stone was, but others were confused and were guessing it was a type of faded ruby, rose quartz, or perhaps even a beautifully cut piece of glass. That last guess evoked a strong response from an indignant millionaire.

"Glass! Indeed! Do you think a Howell would ever be caught sporting mere costume jewelry? Clearly it is a pink diamond," stated Mr. Howell firmly.

"I didn't know diamonds could be pink," Gilligan stated simply.

The Skipper and Mary Ann also looked a bit skeptical.

"Actually, pink diamonds are quite real," the Professor stated. Launching into a brief history of the formation of diamonds, he continued, "You see, it is believed that that diamonds were formed millions of years ago when carbon bearing rocks deep beneath the earth's surface were put under immense pressure then heated up to an extreme temperature. The pressure and heat caused the carbon molecules to dramatically rearrange. When the temperature reduced, and other contributing factors such as pressure and chemistry were right, the carbon atoms bonded to build diamond crystals."

The Professor could see the usual lost look on the faces of most around the table – a look he encountered many a time when he gave scientific explanations. So, he cut to the chase, at least in his mind. He explained the reason a diamond could show a particular color by adding, "If an element interacts with the carbon atoms during a diamond's creation, the diamond's color can change. Both radiation and pressure on a diamond's structure will also impact its color. Thus the formation of a pink diamond is caused simply by an imperfection in the crystal lattice of the diamond."

Seeing the look of horror in the eyes of Mr. Howell when he used the word "imperfection" the Professor immediately rephrased to make it more palatable by adding, "or perhaps one might say, _aberration _to the crystal lattice, thus making it more rare, and undoubtedly more expensive."

Mr. Howell was quick to agree to that last point.

"Well, I don't care how it was made," proclaimed Ginger. "I just think it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Who would have thought that here, on this deserted island, I would be given such an exquisite gift… a real pink diamond!"

"Just like one of your pink beads, right Ginger?" interjected Gilligan.

"Yes..." Ginger said, admiring the necklace, and started to cry once again. "Mrs. Howell, I don't know what to say…"

"There is nothing that needs to be said," replied the heiress with full grace. "I wanted you to have it, and I'm extremely pleased to have made such a fortuitous choice. Happy anniversary dear," said Mrs. Howell with much love and a beautiful smile.

"HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!" all the rest repeated together.

As a little hubbub developed while Gilligan helped Ginger with the clasp of the necklace and the Skipper stood and Mary Ann and leaned in, each to get a better look, Mr. Howell took the opportunity to pull his wife in closer and whisper a quiet protest.

"Lovey, how could you? That necklace is worth a fortune!"

"Now Thurston, you know very well that the jewelry box that I gave Mary Ann is worth just as much, and I didn't hear you making of fuss about that!"

"Yes, but that was from the Wentworth fortune. This was a Howell purchase," was his reply.

"Well, never mind that dear. After all, it's _only_ money."

"Ooo Lovey, what you said!"

"Hush, Thurston," demanded his wife in a tone that her husband recognized all too well.

The powerful Thurston Howell the Third knew that once his wife had made up her mind on a matter, there was no point in arguing further. She was quite a little spitfire at times, and he always admired her for that, so he acquiesced with a meek but loving, "Yes, dear."

That brought their little side conversation to a firm end and they turned their faces back toward the group, adding their smiles to the happiness of the moment.

Most at the table were still abuzz about the necklace and how it amazingly coincided with Ginger's anniversary story. Mary Ann, however, had grown quiet. She was sitting in her seat, admiring Ginger and how glamorous she looked - even more so now with that stunning pink diamond around her neck. Her smiled faded slightly, and her brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. She had been thinking that she could finally relate to her roommate, but as it turned out, Ginger always had a strong and intriguing personality, even from her childhood… and her story was so life altering. Mr. and Mrs. Howell's had been as well. She thought of the story she had picked out to share, and it was seeming more and more insignificant and silly, and she wondered if she should share it at all.

This slightly disconcerted look did not go unnoticed by the Professor, who was seated directly across from her. He was well aware that Mary Ann still felt inferior to the other ladies on the island, despite the very vital role she played in their community. During the time he spent with her as they prepared for the beauty contest they held years before, and she had shared her insecurities. They had faded slightly over time, but he could see by the look on her face that she was wanting to slide into the background as Ginger garnered much attention. He was just about to mention something, when another spoke up on her behalf…


End file.
